It’s late

It’s late and I have at least two dozen other things I could be doing right now (including sleeping). But tonight while canning peaches, saving up some of summer’s glory it felt chilly on the deck. And too many leaves crunched under mine and Haven’s feet while we picked in the garden so I must write down a bit more of summer. The seasons are turning.

I don’t want to forget to mention that my baby turned three, that I now have the most precious goddaughter to my two godsons. That watching my older two play soccer brings me much happiness. I don’t want to forget swimming with friends and park days with deep conversation and reading books with my toes in mountain streams.

I don’t want to forget the goodness of the hard work of summer or the way some days are just hot and sweaty and grumpy but they can still end with all of us piled into one bed with Barbara Reid’s book of Mother’s Goose and it’s one more summer where no one is too old for it just yet.

I don’t want to forget Raine’s first triathlon or my own or how Haven had her first ever all clear dentist appointment. And how we went on a date for a cupcake in the city. Or how the girls tried tubing for the first time and how all my babies hair smells after long days in the sun. How Liam turned into a vicarious reader over night and devoured chapter book after chapter book.

I don’t want to forget the family photos in the rain (not the best year but I still look at them with love) and my watching the way my kids are growing into such good friends and how they can play imagination games for hours. There was dinning under the big tree on our garden harvest everyone helped grow with some black keys on the side. We stayed up to watch the stars.

I don’t want to forget the tenderness of celebrating fifteen years.

I don’t want to forget that we loved and we laughed. How I rediscovered something about being beloved.